


Hanging by a Thread

by semnai



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (TV Movie 1996)
Genre: Alt!Eight, Alternate Eight, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Post Doomsday, Time War, dark doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/semnai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For two years, Rose has made a life for herself in this alternate universe, but one morning she receives a call about a certain blue box, and as always, nothing is what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging by a Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie, I am pretending the 50th didn't happen for this story. Though I could claim, because this is set in Pete's World, what happened here for the Time Lords could be very different. And yes I do also realize Ten said he didn't think they existed in this universe but he is not always right.
> 
> Enjoy!

The thing that Rose always remembered first about that day is that it was raining. Not a light spring rain, but the dreary, cold rain that always made her regret ever getting out of bed in the morning. She groaned, and rolled over to her side, while pulling her comforter over her head. She knew she had to get up and go to work, but today it felt like that was the last place in the world she wanted to be. Even if your job was working as an agent for Torchwood. She sighed and tried to pretend that she wasn’t supposed to get up ten minutes ago.

All of a sudden, the harsh sound of the ringtone on her cell broke what was left of the peacefulness of that morning. She looked up to her nightstand where her phone lay lit up and reached out to grab it, answering the call and cutting off the irritating ring tone that the phone had come with. She hadn’t cared enough to change it herself.

The caller ID only told her it was work, and she frowned. “’ello?” she mumbled, attempting to sit up.

“Ma’am? Sorry to wake you, it’s just…” The man was speaking rapidly, and sounded almost excited.

“What is it, Greggs?”

“Well, I mean this alert is old, but it’s from you, and it just popped up on the screen and the instructions say to call you, and good thing too because I am not sure what to—“

“Slow down, slow down,” she interrupted quickly. “What’s the alert?”

“A blue box? I—“

Rose tensed as her heart stopped, her mind racing. She gripped the phone so hard, it was a surprise it hadn’t broken yet. She practically ran out of bed and to her dresser, where she started throwing on clothes.

“Address,” she sputtered. “Address now!”

 

Twelve minutes later, she was there. She ran out of her car, door still open, engine still running, as she saw it. That beautiful blue box, just sitting inconspicuously on a street corner, just like she always dreamed it would be.

As she grew closer though, Rose began to notice something wasn’t right, and slowed down. It… looked damaged. She had never seen the TARDIS look damaged and it had gone through hell, almost literally, while she traveled in it. Scorch marks ran along the sides, wood panels cracked, gouges torn across the sides.

Her fingers ghosted past the grainy blue wood of the TARDIS, as if afraid they’d pass through. Hesitantly, she placed a hand against the door, and gasped, pulling it away just as quickly as if burned. She knew how the TARDIS felt, how her TARDIS felt, and this wasn’t it. This TARDIS’ consciousness was… jagged, defenseless, broken. Matched the exterior, she thought sadly.

She entertained the thought briefly of calling her mom or Pete before she entered, an unsettling feeling sweeping across her, but she dismissed it. This was the TARDIS, and if the TARDIS was in this sort of state, she didn’t even want to think about how her Doctor was. He might need her help.

Rose knocked. After waiting several seconds and hearing nothing, she pulled on the door handle.

It was locked and she stared at it for several seconds before remembering her key. “Away two years and I forget to use the damn key,” she muttered to herself.  Pulling on the string around her neck, she lifted it and the key off, and with a deep breath, fitted the key in. For several scary seconds, it didn’t seem to work, but the lock finally gave way and the door creaked open.

She didn’t move, but just gazed into the TARDIS. It was nearly pitch black, and she thought she could see faint glowing lights somewhere, like candles.

More hesitantly than she would have admitted to herself, she stepped in. With a quick intake of breath, she noticed it looked nothing like her TARDIS either. It looked like it belonged better in an 19th century castle than in a sophisticated sentient time machine, but as the arm chair and the blackened fireplace reminded her slightly of the library room, it gave her some comfort that things might not be so different. And she needed it, because even though parts appeared cozy, the rest was in shambles. Books lay strewn across the floor, papers and pieces of electronics smashed across the carpet and wood. Sections of the TARDIS from the walls appeared if someone had pulled them out or they exploded. Or both. Worst of all, the console looked lifeless, only several buttons halfheartedly lit up. This TARDIS was dying, or it appeared to be at least. And no sign of the Doctor.

Shards of dread began to slip their way into her heart. She slowly walked up to the console and pressed a hand to the glass column reaching up to the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, extending her consciousness to the TARDIS’, vainly trying to contact her. Even that was cracked she realized suddenly and pulled her hand away. Tears began to gather at the corner of her eyes, but she steeled herself, as she always did.

“Doctor?” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the console room and then through the hallways of the TARDIS. All she could hear in reply was a dripping sound somewhere in the distance. She walked around the room once, wringing her hands, still clutching her phone. Should she call someone? Should she call her mum or Mickey? Torchwood?

Placing her hands on a railing, it felt wet. She quickly withdrew, looking down on her hands, noticing blood.

“Doctor!” she screamed, her voice cracking.

“You called?” a voice replied coolly, stepping out of the shadows.

Rose jumped back in shock, instantly gravitating towards the console, her hands reaching behind her to grasp the edge.

They stared back at each other, sizing each other up, and she couldn’t help feel like a cornered animal. His eyes were wide, wild, and washed with incalculable pain. He was entirely focused on her, and started slowly pacing around the console, his hands behind his back, like a predator stalking prey. He wore the remnants of a dark green velvet jacket, now spattered with blood. His clothes, likewise, were torn. Grime coated every inch of his body, and his light brown shorn hair hung limply about his face, which was covered in stubble. Like the room, he would have looked handsome if not for the obvious signs of death about him.

He appeared like he had been to hell and back, just like the TARDIS.

Rose’s mind was racing; this man, either he was the Doctor or someone who killed the Doctor, judging by the evidence of disaster around her. She wasn’t sure which one terrified her the most.

He stopped suddenly, his head slightly cocked to the side.

“I would ask what you’re doing on my ship, or how you know my name, but I find of late I do not care. I’ll tell you only once, girl, consider that a mercy. Get. Off. My. Ship,” he said, growling the last words.

Rose swallowed, but stood her ground, her head held high. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said defiantly, like a promise.

His eyes narrowed, and before Rose had even realized he was moving, the Doctor was within arms distance of her, and she quickly twisted out of his way, and turned back to face him, her body crouched in a defensive position.

“Doctor, _I_ only will say it one more time: I am not going anywhere. Consider _that_ a mercy.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a harsh smile graced his lips. “Should I know who you are, girl?” he asked cruelly.

Rose thought for several seconds before replying. “Perhaps not, if you’re from this universe.”

Surprise flitted across the Doctor’s face.

“Someone told me once that there were no Time Lords in this universe,” she said softly, almost to herself.

At that, the Doctor’s face hardened, a harsh demeanor that should have never graced his features. “They aren’t anymore,” he spat out, disgust clear across his face.

And with that everything clicked. “Oh.”

What she saw before her was the Doctor directly after he had… killed everyone, his people, the Daleks, his planet, everything. Endless death, sorrow, and pain were written across his face in the grime and blood.

“The Time War,” she breathed, her dread melting to pity.

His hands tightly gripped her arms, locking her in place, his eyes boring into hers furious and questioning.

 “How do you know that? You’re just an Earth girl,” he hissed, his eyes narrow slits.

“Doctor,” she said with a shaking voice, trying to ignore wisps of doubt and fear. “I know you, maybe not this-universe-you, but I _know_ you.”

When he didn’t say anything, she continued. “I knew you after all this—this happened, and you get through this, you—“

Rose took a deep breath, unsure how to continue, but her mind still resolved on one thing.

“I’m not leaving you.”

His eyes searched her face, looking for some measure of dishonesty, of madness perhaps, but he let her go.

Rose folded her arms across her chest, quickly rubbing a hand down her arm and soothing where his fingernails had left crescent moons indented in her skin. She gazed challengingly back. She couldn’t be there for her Doctor, back in their universe, but maybe here this was a second chance, her opportunity to give back to the Doctor, make his life a little better like he had for her.

The Doctor looked away first, walking around the edge of the console, until he was directly across from her, the glass column blocking him from her view. She lightly shook her head, and stepped to the side to watch him leaning against the console, head down. Rose didn’t say a word however; she just waited.

“What’s your name?” he asked finally, his face still hidden from view.

“Rose Tyler,” she responded quietly, holding out her hand.

“Rose Tyler,” he repeated, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Well, _Rose_ , welcome to the TARDIS,” his voice laden with heavy sarcasm. He ignored her hand.

And with that, the Doctor turned away from her, and walked away from the console, heading down one of the corridors. “Or what’s left of her,” he called out, his voice echoing. “Might be repairing or possibly she’s just dying.”

 “You haven’t… checked?” she asked in disbelief, running to catch up to his quick strides down the corridor.

“No, why should I? Everything else—“ The Doctor stopped himself immediately, and Rose suspected he was burying everything, putting up all those walls she knew so well around his grief and his emotions.

“What’s the point?” he said carelessly, his tone icy.

Rose sputtered. “What’s the point?” She grabbed his arm, halting him mid-stride, and he turned slowly to face her.

“What’s the _point_?” Rose was breathing rapidly from anger and because she was practically running to keep up with him. He shrugged off her grip on his arm, pushing her to the side.

“I don’t know you, and don’t think I can’t just throw you out now,” he practically hissed. “It’s none of your business what I do with my ship.”

“You know as well as I do, Doctor, she’s more than a ship. Haven’t you killed enough?” she spat back, eyes furious.

The second the words left her mouth, she realized what she had said. Her eyes widened, apologies bubbling up immediately, and she reached out to him instinctively unsure of how to take back what had been spoken.

He recoiled from her, anger and sorrow warring across his face, as if torn between crying and resorting to physical force. He looked down at his hands for a split second as if expecting to see something else, before minutely shaking his head, and looking back up at her.

“Rose Tyler,” he said simply, an odd look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” she began, stepping away to create space between them. “I just meant—She’s all you have left, Doctor, I’m so sorry I said that, I just mean you need her and she needs you, all you have is each other, please—“ Rose paused, taking a deep breath, her eyes pleading.

His expression revealed nothing, so she attempted to continue, hesitating on finding the right words. “Doctor, you did what you had to do for a reason, and it was the right decision. I know it hurts, that it kills you more than anything, but you saved the universe. Earth out there, all the trillion planets out there teeming with life, are still like that because of you.”

She swallowed, unable to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I know none of that makes it any better though. I’m so sorry for your loss, Doctor.”

Rose finally turned away from the Doctor, and walked back the way they had come, back to the console room. She made a quick call to Torchwood with an update, then to her mum and Mickey, letting them know what was going on. Her mother tried to plead with her, to persuade her to stay, but she never had a chance. No one ever did and Mickey knew this. He said his good-bye’s with as much regret as he could manage.

Sighing, she slipped the phone in her pocket, and looked back over her shoulder to see the Doctor watching her.

“Family?” he asked.

She nodded. “Came here with me… well not Mickey, he decided to stay here earlier than me. Not that I got to make any decisions,” unable to help the bitterness creeping into her tone.

She thought she could see the questions arising through his face, but if he did had any, he didn’t voice them.

“And you’ve said your farewells.”

Rose nodded again, looking anywhere in the room but at him. The room was silent as the Doctor contemplated this.

A loud banging sound came from her left suddenly, causing her to jump.

She looked back to see him lying on the ground on his back, his head disappearing through an area of missing wood side panelling, his arms joining shortly after. The familiarity of it all hit her with the force of a bullet, and Rose slowly walked over to see what he was up to.

After several minutes, he slid back out of the panel. He squinted up at her, his face clouded with bemusement.

“Well?” he demanded, his voice slightly abrasive.

“Well, what?” Rose countered, annoyed.

The Doctor sighed. “Under that chair there should be a box, a tool box. Could you _please_ get it and bring it to me?”

Rose rolled her eyes, but did as he said, handing him the box, out of which he pulled out some unrecognizable instrument. Before disappearing back underneath the wall, he fleetingly caught her eye and nodded before glancing away.

“It might be days or weeks until she’s been properly healed and repaired,” his voice echoed out from inside the wall. “Can you stand the wait?”

Rose smiled softly, her eyes alight with hope. The man she knew was still in there, and she could support him, heal him, though it may take days or weeks or years, she could always wait. Just for him.

“Of course, Doctor. Moreover, I can help.”


End file.
